


The smile when you tore me apart

by darkersky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkersky/pseuds/darkersky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had taken a lot of rationalizing on her part as to how on earth she could have fallen so hard for the Savior of the town, the miraculous child of Snow White and Prince Charming.</p>
<p>(Contains spoilers for the S2 season finale.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The smile when you tore me apart

**Author's Note:**

> So I just have a lot of feelings about Regina's epic love for Emma, okay?

***

 

"Can we not talk about what happened? You know, with the diamond and all? At least until we find Henry?"

Those had been Emma's only words to her on the subject and they had been said on their first night on Hook's ship. 

The moon had been bright, the ocean calm, and Emma's eyes had been sad, tired and frightened (much like her own eyes must have been) so Regina had merely nodded.

Now was not the time. 

 

***

 

Snow had realized something one day when they had been preparing dinner together in the galley. (It had been oddly ironic that the two queens had been the only ones on the ship capable of feeding the barbarians (and the one barbaric princess) they had been traveling with.)

They had been perfectly civil towards each other, chopping onions side by side. But suddenly Snow's eyes had widened in horror.

"Oh my god, you love my daughter," Snow had breathed out, clasping a hand over her mouth after realizing what she had said.

"Whatever gave it away?" Regina had said sarcastically, because there was really no point denying it. Not after the Charmings had witnessed them make magic of world saving proportions together and, a long time ago, Regina had been the one to tell young Snow that true love was the most powerful magic of all.

"Do you think she knows?" Snow had asked.

"I don't know," Regina had sighed.

"I, I won't say anything to her," Snow had stammered, looking at Regina with those way too innocent eyes.

"We will see about that," Regina had said, because, honestly, their history with secret-keeping wasn't exactly glorious.

But Snow had kept her promise this time.

 

***

 

Now they were back in Storybrooke and they still weren't talking about it.

Henry had been quite shaken up by the events that had taken place in Neverland and he had nightmares almost every night. Emma had somehow ended up staying in the guest bedroom next to Henry's room ("Just temporarily, until Henry feels safe again." And then they had never talked about it again.) and they took turns soothing him after he woke up whimpering or outright screaming inane words at the shadows lurking in his room.

On most of those nights, however, they both somehow ended up in the kitchen, holding warm mugs of coffee or tea, staring at the walls and occasionally at each other. They didn't really talk, but they knew what the other was thinking. This was tiring, but this was about Henry. Protecting him was their priority and would always be.

And sometimes Regina thought it was quite nice, having someone who understood the feeling of desperately wanting to protect the boy asleep in his Superman pajamas, his face still wet from tears.

  

***

 

Some days Regina would find Emma (usually rather scantily clad, but that was nothing new – though even the close living quarters on the ship had not desensitized her to the sight of smooth skin and lean muscle, bruises and scars caused by bravery and foolishness marking the skin in various places), casually perusing her walk-in closet, grabbing a shirt or a pair of pants. It was invasive behavior but that was to be expected from Emma. From day one she had been invading Regina's life, Regina's town, even Regina's personal space.

"Don't you have any clothes of your own?" she asked Emma one day.

"Yeah," Emma replied, absent-mindedly.

"Then why do you keep stealing mine?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I'm just used to sharing clothes with people. Is that a problem?"

Regina's mind was suddenly filled with images of a young Emma, dressed in borrowed clothes, attempting to assimilate into yet another foster family. It was a painful thought, to think that much like her own life had never truly been her own, Emma had always lived in borrowed circumstances, in borrowed clothes. And to think that Regina was responsible for much of it made the thought even worse.

"Well, as long as that keeps you from ever again wearing your mother's clothes, I suppose it's fine."

 

***

 

It had taken a lot of rationalizing on her part as to how on earth she could have fallen so hard for the Savior of the town, the miraculous child of Snow White and Prince Charming.

Perhaps it had been the way Emma kept saving her life, even when her own father and most of Storybrooke wanted her dead. "She's not dying," Emma had stated firmly and Regina had looked at her and seen something she had never seen before – someone willing to do whatever it took to protect her, the Evil Queen.

Because Emma never saw her as the Evil Queen, much like Regina never saw Emma as the perfect princess and valiant knight that her parents and the rest of the town seemed to think she was.

Yes, Emma was probably the bravest person she had ever met, but the bravery was reluctant. First it had been the bravery of someone with nothing to lose and then the bravery of someone with everything to lose – her son. Regina knew Emma was not used to being someone people relied on. She was used to people tossing her aside at the first sign of trouble.

But Emma never cared about causing trouble in Regina's life, as if she knew that Regina would never lose interest in the conflict between them. Their relationship was all kinds of exhilarating for that very reason because there was only so long one could enjoy ruling a town full of simpletons and weak-minded fools.

Their conflicts had been mostly about Henry in the beginning. Then they had somehow become about the two of them. And suddenly their fights had started hurting in a completely new and different way.

Later, Regina could rationalize that hurt as well, but even more so she could understand Emma's longing for a family. It was not Emma's fault that her parents were a couple of idiots who desperately wanted to connect with her, make her one of them. For a while Emma had tried to do that as well, be Emma Charming, just like she had tried to be all those other Emmas that all those other families had wanted her to be when she had been growing up.

But the real Emma Swan was someone only Regina saw. Even Henry looked at her with unguarded admiration and awe but it was okay because he was not quite twelve years old and still saw some people as heroes (even Regina, these days, which she had to admit was an odd yet wonderful feeling). Emma and Henry would have their first real fight some day and Emma wouldn't know how to react and then, maybe, Henry would see it, too, the woundedness and uncertainty. And maybe, just maybe, Regina would then be the one, for once, to conduct the peace negotiations in their household.

Of course the real turning point in her relationship with Emma had been the darned diamond of mass destruction that they had stopped together. She had made peace with her own love for Emma and seen the way Emma turned around, hesitantly, and said, "Regina, I..."

But Regina had tuned that out of her consciousness and focused on protecting Henry with all of her power. She had also made peace with the fact that Henry, too, was on his way to becoming one of the Charmings. Emma would do everything for him, though, and the thought had been comforting. Because if Emma was willing to protect Regina so fiercely, she could only imagine how hard she would fight for their son.

She hadn't been prepared for the fact that Emma came back. Emma, Henry and the two idiots had come back for her. And just as they all were preparing to die Emma had looked at Regina with fearful, yet defiant eyes.

She had walked over to her and said, "You may not be strong enough but maybe we are." Emma's eyes had widened a little as she had stared at Regina and a realization of something had been blatant in those hazel orbs.

Of course Regina had known what it meant – the powerfulness of their combined magic. The very thought had made her giddy in a way nothing had made her giddy since Daniel's proposal. She had been so miserable for so long that it was almost unreal to feel so utterly light-headed.

But then everything had become all about saving Henry, and the giddiness had faded into a white light in the back of Regina's mind, a small pleasant buzzing in the untainted parts of her heart.

 

***

 

Usually Emma was amusing when she was drunk. She was all goofy smiles and shameless flirting with everyone. (Once after having been out with Ruby she had come home and fixed a particularly seductive smile at Regina. She had seemed so happy, so free and without inhibitions that Regina had almost let the kiss happen, but she knew that it was not the way it was supposed to be. It reminded her too much of Graham, of those meaningless touches, clumsy hands on her skin, and the coldness of the bed in the morning.)

One night, however, Regina saw Emma in the study, clutching a tumbler of whiskey in one hand, leaning her forehead against the wall. Her shoulders were shaking. The sight of Emma Swan crying was a heartbreaking one, but Regina had never been very good at comforting people. She had, after all, been more about the destruction of everyone's happiness for so long.

She observed Emma from a polite distance but when Emma looked up and straight into her eyes, moist eyes looking so lost, she could feel all her remaining walls melt away. She walked over to Emma and gently took the glass from her.

There had been a lot going on in Emma's life (in both of their lives) in the past year so Regina could relate to the tears. Emma had recently had her whole life turned upside down, she had reluctantly become part of a family, something she had been searching for her whole life (and when someone builds up all those expectations about something for so long, the reality is bound to be a little disappointing, however perfect it might look from the outside), and she had lost her first love – her son's father. More importantly, she had almost lost the son, too (twice in fact), before even really getting to know him. And then there was the whole matter of the town's ex-evil ex-mayor against all odds being in love with her. That must have been rather terrifying as well.

Sometimes, in moments like this, Regina pondered if this whole loving Emma Swan thing was her true curse. But it didn't matter because this wasn't a curse that could be broken (she had wished it was for a while, but the curse only seemed to grow stronger each passing day). Carefully, guided by her instincts, Regina extended her hand.

Emma searched Regina's eyes for something, and apparently found what she was looking for because she took the offered hand and allowed to be led to the master bedroom.

They slept each on their own sides of the bed, but when Regina woke up in the morning, she saw an index finger wrapped around hers. The touch felt like an anchor, a ray of sunshine after a lengthy period of rain.

 

***

 

Sometimes when Emma and Henry came home after they had had dinner with Snow and David, Emma looked tired. (These days the Charmings made sure to invite Regina, too, but she was not quite ready for that kind of familial torture.)

"Ugh, they are so exhaustingly happy. And a little gross. I didn't need to hear all that talk about them finding each other in completely new ways..." Emma sighed.

"Oh, no need to tell me about that. How can you even dine with them without getting the urge to kill them?" Because apparently, at some point, Regina's evil ways had become something that could be joked about.

"You have my permission to rip my heart out if we ever become like them," Emma said with a grimace.

It felt like a declaration of... something, but Regina knew better than to say anything. So, instead, she said, "Well, I wouldn't be too worried, because neither of us are idiots."

"Yeah, but we still suck in so many other ways," Emma said, smiling tiredly.

"I suppose we do." Regina smiled, too.

Because if damaged and chronically lonely people like Regina and Emma could ever love each other, it would not be epically cute puppy love of the Charming variety. It would be something completely different.

 

***

 

The fight was a bad one. It had started with something absurd and escalated into something furious.

"I'm leaving. I'm so done. I'm going back to my parents' place," Emma said, eyes dark and blazing, hair a mess.

"Feel free, Miss Swan. It is not as if I invited you to live here anyway."

" _Don't you dare Miss Swan me_ _._ I hate that and it reminds me of how much I wanted to hate you!"

"Well, we don't always get what we want, now do we?" 

Emma stared at her with furious eyes, fists clenched, her whole body tense and ready for flight. Then she took a shaky breath and her posture relaxed. She looked defeated. "I hate that I don't really want to leave."

"Then don't leave." 

"Why on earth, of all the people in all the fucking fairytale universes, does it have to be you who can make like crazy powerful magic with me?" There was accusation in her voice, but her eyes sparkled a little.

"Oh, believe me, I'm as perplexed as you are."

"I'm hungry."

"There's leftover lasagna in the fridge."

It was not as though love and hate were mutually exclusive, but even when she hated Emma the most, she couldn't help but love her even more.

 

***

 

Regina almost never played the piano that was in the room next to the study. One rainy day, however, she sat in front of it, tentatively pressing the keys. Henry was at school, and Emma was busy sheriffing around the town so it felt safe. She was not a master player, and the thought of someone hearing her was an utterly horrifying one.

Suddenly, she sensed more than saw movement. Emma emerged from the foyer looking like a wet dog. Her red leather jacket hung darkened on her lean frame and Regina could see her nipples through the soaked dress shirt she had borrowed from Regina's closet.

Automatically she stopped playing, feeling embarrassed, her hands falling, limp, to her lap.

"Don't stop," Emma said, her voice quiet and full of warmth, and despite trying, Regina could detect no hint of ridicule in it.

So she played on, letting herself get lost in the music and in the feeling of being observed with tenderness. It filled her with something that felt a lot like...

_Love._

The word entered her conscious mind like an electric shock. Her fingers faltered, hitting a few false notes, before she was able to regain control of them.

After she reached the end of the piece, she just sat there, staring at the notes, the keys of the piano, the wall. She needed time to absorb the significance of the moment.

Finally she turned her head and saw Emma still watching her, eyes bright greenish blue pools of affection, water dripping from her wet hair, hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

"Emma..." she said, staring at her with wide eyes, her voice almost a whisper.

Emma gave her a tiny smile, and shrugged a little, as if to say _Hey, I can't help it_ _either_.

 

***

 

Loving Emma Swan was the most excruciatingly exhilarating thing she had ever experienced. Being loved by Emma Swan meant being subject to complete adoration and attention, being totally and completely encompassed by a warmth and safety unlike anything she had ever known.

Kissing Emma Swan meant relentlessly competing for power and surrendering to the softness of Emma's lips, Emma's teasing tongue melting together with hers in urgency, Emma's teeth gracing her lower lip, biting, gasping, almost breathlessly, making up for the years spent alone, for not belonging, for feeling inferior and unlovable, invisible and utterly lost.

Loving Emma Swan meant watching in wonder the things she could do to her; it meant watching Emma's firm upper body arch back in ecstasy, hearing the uninhibited sounds and curse words escape from Emma's lips as she bit her lower lip, seeing pearls of sweat form on her forehead, feeling her whole body tremble just before the muscles in her abdomen tightened and she moaned, _Oh my god, oh my god, wow, Regina_ until she was beyond words, collapsing on the bed, heaving, all sweaty skin, wetness and burning heat, pulling her close, kissing her. Loving Emma Swan meant getting to see and touch and feel this while knowing that it was a reaction caused by her hands exploring every inch of Emma's body; her teeth on Emma's neck, her mouth on Emma's stomach, on the insides of her thighs.

Being loved by Emma Swan meant falling asleep limbs tangled together, being awakened in the morning by soft kisses placed on her shoulders, her throat, behind her ears, like she was someone who deserved all this tenderness, this attention, the yearning in the fingernails digging into her back – leaving marks but not marking a territory, never demanding, always asking what she wanted, never taking anything by force, always stopping at any sign of tenseness, passion turning into soft, comforting caresses. It meant feeling Emma's tongue do things to her that she had never known were possible, Emma's fingers inside her, taking her to the edge of oblivion and beyond, hearing herself make sounds that she would have been embarrassed of prior to the experience of being completely liberated by Emma Swan. It meant kissing the arrogant smirk off of Emma's face, tasting herself on her lips, laughing softly at her own lack of inhibition.

Loving Emma Swan was also bound to mean enduring endless teasing, bickering about the most trivial things, slamming doors, wanting to throw things at walls, and later apologizing, the end result being either one of them ending up pushed against a wall instead, being kissed senseless, hands tugging at items of clothing, yanking them off. It was bound to mean throwing her head back in laughter at Emma's attempts at being graceful, at her sense of humor, at the ridiculous perfectness of it all. Being loved by Emma Swan meant always having someone there to listen, someone who knew when all she wanted was to turn to magic and cause doom and destruction, tender eyes making, without fail, the gloominess subside.

Loving Emma Swan meant opening herself up to the possibility of a happy ending, without any demands or false pretenses. There was no formality of marriage, no naïve illusion of first love lasting forever (as if it was somehow truer than other loves, despite the experience of being in love for the first time being almost necessary for any subsequent loves to last for any considerable length of time), no need to say things like _forever_ or _never_ (because those weren't realistic concepts), or _You are mine_ _–_ they were each their own persons, total opposites and yet the same, broken yet attracted to each other's woundedness (and determined to mend it).

It was just the two of them, the house that felt like a home and their son (who was slowly starting to smile again), and all of it felt right.

Love was weakness, and it was strength, and sometimes it was as simple as taking each other's hand in the rain, sharing an umbrella, and laughing all the way home.

 

_fin_  

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Hee. I haven't posted fanfiction anywhere on the net in 10 years so I'm a bit nervous.
> 
> Oh. You may wonder what exactly happened in Neverland and, you know, with the whole rescue mission and all. Hell if I know ;) Terrible things, probably.


End file.
